


She's Got Your Bacalao

by purtistringo



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 09:39:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2846411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purtistringo/pseuds/purtistringo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor plans something nice for Josephine as they await the Judge's response regarding the Du Paraquettes. (Fluff +personal f!adaar exposition)</p>
            </blockquote>





	She's Got Your Bacalao

A familiar smell encouraged her stomach to growl noisily.  _What? Oh, nothing, just the future head of House Montilyet hallucinating_ , she thought. If only homesickness could be silenced by a carefully worded missive. It was always worse in the evenings, she’d learned long ago at school in Orlais. Although this was the first time her mind had gone so far as to trick her senses. She added a groan to her gut’s continuing tirade, and laid her head down upon the desk.

“Is everything alright, Lady Montilyet?”

 Josie sat up so swiftly it caused her vision to swim. “Inquisitor, of course, I was simply…. is that…?”

 Steam rose from a large bowl, permeating the air with the smell of peppers, garlic, and tomato. Miette Adaar set the dish down gingerly, making sure to avoid the ambassador’s rows of neatly stacked paper. Had Josie not been caught completely off guard, staring dumbly into the rich red sauce, she would have seen the inquisitor stride lightly across the room, take a basket from a pair of shadowy hands, and close the door.

Instead, Josephine Montilyet was stirred from her revery by the very loudest sound her stomach had ever managed to produce. Its demanding protest echoed against the stone walls.

“Guess I don’t have to worry that you’ve already eaten” Miette grinned broadly, seating herself across the desk. 

“I…how…”

“Well, it starts with an excellent cut of fish, and then”

 “ _You_  made this?”

 Miette nodded, “Any Mercenary worth her salt can make her way around a fire and pan. Besides, if I couldn’t cook we’d be in trouble out in the wild. Half of our friends are too proud, and I’m not sure we’d survive whatever the other half came up with.”

 Josephine imagined Sera frozen mid-giggle holding out a plate with two eggs and a strategically placed sausage to a very unimpressed Madame de Fer. “I can see the issue. But this is Bacalao a la Antiva. My family has it made every time I visit.”

 “Sister Leliana gave me the recipe. I overheard your staff. They worry about you, working late and forgetting to eat. With what happened when we went to see Comte Boivert, I’m worried you push yourself too hard.”

 “Inquisitor, I apologize” Josephine began.

 “Miette, please, and there’s nothing to apologize for. We should hear back from the Judge any day now. In the meantime, I thought you might enjoy eating more if it was something you really liked. Here…” Adaar produced dinnerware and bottle of wine from the basket.

 “Rialto Blanco!”

 “Krem gave it to me, said the Chargers found casks of the stuff washed up from a Tevinter trading ship.”

 “Incredible luck then, this vintage is priceless”, Josephine inhaled the sweet bouquet as she swirled the glass beneath her nose. She took a slow sip. It was cool and tart and perfect. Once her family would have been able to afford the best wines their country had to offer. Licking her lips, she vowed to make that true again.

 Her first bite of the Bacalao was so close to what she remembered that it almost made her cry. Perhaps someone from her family would be at the Winter Palace, once she’d managed to null the House of Repose contract. She hadn’t seen them since she joined the Inquisition. Since what happened at Haven. The warmth in her belly contrasted the coldness she’d been experiencing, the fear. A heavy sigh escaped her.

 “That bad, huh? I really tried…” Miette’s shoulders slumped.

 Josephine reached across the table to touch the Inquisitor’s hand comfortingly. “Inq...Miette, no, this is wonderful! Truly! I...was thinking of my family.”

 “You must miss them a great deal.”

 “I do.” She took another sip of wine. “It occurs to me that you have not mentioned  _your_ family, your Worship.”

 “You don’t need to call me that, Josephine. We both play our role for the Inquisition, and I appreciate the gravity of that I promise. But I’m just a girl hoping to spend a nice evening with someone I care about.”

 The serious expression of Miette’s face made Josephine’s heart skip a beat. She took a gulp of wine, and nodded through a nervous cough. “Miette.”

 "Miette.” Adaar repeated. “My parents named me that so the Free Marchers would be less scared of me.”

 “They are not mercenaries as well?”

 “Farmers. Well, my mother is at any rate. She was an Athlok under the Qun, father was an Ashaad. They were paired to make me, and I guess they fell in love. Left Par Vollen and became Tal Vashoth so we could be a family. They hid in a space beneath a ship cannon when they snuck away, thus _Adaar._ ”

 “How Romantic!”

 “I suppose it is. As a child though, you know, I only thought about what it was like for _me_. People would buy our produce easy enough, but they didn’t want their children being corrupted by a savage Qunari. I resented my parents for a long time.”

 “Not anymore?” Josephine asked before blowing on a still hot piece of cod.

 “My parents found a Tal Vashoth mage to instruct me when my powers started showing. He was a member of a mercenary company, and when my training was done I stayed. For the first time I was surrounded by people who looked like me. Sometimes there would be others like Bull's company…no one cared what you were as long as you were useful. They’re my friends,  but it was rough. I understand now, it’s not a life for a family any more than living under the Qun. I was thinking of going home after the conclave to help protect my family’s farm, but…”

 “Do you know if they’re alright? I can write our contacts in…”

 “Leliana has people checking in on them from time to time. But thank you, Josephine.” Miette nursed at her wine glass, and stared silently at the stars through the open arch windows.

 “This Inquisition  _will_  succeed, Miette. I believe in it. I believe in you. Andraste’s Herald or no, you are the kind of woman who takes every possible opportunity to help. If anyone can get through this and make sure we have homes to return to, it’s you. You will see your family again,  they will understand.”

 “We both will.” Miette nodded. “I won’t let anything happen to you or your family either. I promise. So please, eat and take care of yourself, won’t you?”

 Miette nudged the bowl of stew closer, and Josephine lifted it as if in toast.

 The two sat and conversed well after they had polished off their meal. Despite the late hour there were still a few more documents needing to be dealt with before morning. Miette stayed to keep the ambassador company, but it wasn’t long until Josie looked up from her paperwork to find the Inquisitor asleep. Softly snoring and drooling onto her folded arm at the edge of the desk.

 “ _No_ Sera, you may  _not_  use my horns to make a slingshot!”

 Stifling a laugh, Josephine unclasped her broach and draped the scarf over Miette’s shoulders. For the first time in a long time, there was nowhere else she’d rather be.


End file.
